


A Gun for Barns: Side Stories

by laridian



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Legion-Aligned Courier, Mirror Universe, Or Is he?, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28836996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laridian/pseuds/laridian
Summary: One-shots, prompts and side stories relating to my Fallout New Vegas fan novel A Gun for Barns. Knowledge of that work helps but may not be necessary. Chapters will be added when they're written. (The first chapter is a mirror-universe story and does not require knowledge of A Gun for Barns.)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5





	1. Ogustis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally published on Pillowfort, 15 March 2020 (Ides of March in the Roman calendar).

"Why are you doing this?"  
  
The redheaded courier paused, as if confused by the question. He turned back to face Arcade. "Doing what?"  
  
"You're a man of learning," Arcade said, already trying to run a finger between the slave collar and his neck, and failing. It was tight enough that the skin above and below it bulged slightly. "You know that this isn't right. You know that - "  
  
"Shhh." Volk pressed a finger to Arcade's lips. "Just keep Caesar alive a little longer."  
  
Arcade jerked his head away. "Why? So you can remove all freedom and civilization from the Mojave? So the Legion can knock on the NCR's door and threaten them directly?"  
  
"I said, shhh." Volk didn't rise to the bait. It was unsettling, how he still had that open, friendly face. By local standards, he was downright handsome, with clear unmarked skin (except for the bright scar at his temple), even white teeth (and all of them, too), and in good shape. It was no wonder people followed him, and, Arcade kicked himself, ignored the warning signs. "You said it yourself. There is order in Legion lands. There is safety. There is remarkable productivity."  
  
"If you don't mind that everyone belongs to Caesar, that women are property, that - "  
  
"Dr. Gannon," Volk said, in that same even, friendly voice. "I am trying to keep you alive. Please do the same for Caesar. I've requested that you not be damaged during my absence. If anyone does hurt you, you will tell me who it is, upon my return. I won't ask if you understand, because you're a very intelligent man, therefore you do understand the words I'm speaking." He turned away again. "Don't get yourself killed before I get back."  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Arcade didn't want to die. He didn't want to be Caesar's personal slave physician either, but it was better than death... so far.  
  
It sounded like Volk mattered enough for his word to be heeded, in leaving Caesar's physician alone, as if being responsible for Caesar's health wasn't reason enough. Arcade wasn't permitted to listen in on any of the serious work; most of his time he didn't have much to do, actually, so he did what he could to care for the sick and injured among his fellow slaves. The Legion didn't believe in stimpacks, preferring "strength" and endurance; Arcade supposed it gave the NCR a fighting chance that way, since the Legion had more men here, all of them ready to fight and die for Caesar, and if they were armed with technology that Caesar rejected...  
  
There were those who didn't want him here, and made no secret of it. He was educated, nearsighted, knew things that immediately made him suspect to the superstitious, Legion fighters and slaves alike. But he was alive... so far.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
It was hard to know what was truth and what was propaganda in the Legion. The news was generally good. Mr. House was dead, killed by Gunnar Volk, who claimed New Vegas for the Legion. Caesar had inducted Volk into the Legion; that one seemed more likely, Arcade thought, after he received a few kicks and increased dirty looks at the same time as the news. Volk was an upstart, a parvenu, who brought and used technology and did things his own way. Even if he did bring slaves as gifts for Caesar.  
  
Why should he stay alive for Volk's return? He could just... take Caesar down at any time, Arcade thought one afternoon. He sat in the shade of Caesar's tent, watching over the camp without seeing it. The collar itched, and the tightness never let him forget it was there. Next time he was close to Caesar, just... do something to set off the collar. Boom. If he was really lucky, Caesar would have his top staff in there with him at the same time.  
  
And that was why he didn't just take Caesar down, Arcade thought. Lanius, Scourge of the East, would take command, and he was a true evil. Right now Caesar kept Lanius in check.  
  
And when Caesar died? Because it was a matter of time. Volk must have known, when he said to keep Caesar alive a little longer. Caesar was running out of time. The tumor in his brain would kill him within a year, maybe much less. There was no point to killing him now. That would just hasten Lanius' dreams of ruling the empire, and... probably killing all of Caesar's slaves and servants into the bargain. Arcade wasn't the only one, and Lanius, built like a bull and capable of breaking men in half in a stand-up fight, had no need of a doctor.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
"Come, Dr. Gannon."  
  
Arcade could barely think. The explosions and the fighting had gone on all day, and he couldn't escape or do anything but listen to the screams and gunfire and noise and, and then the Praetorians when Caesar had fallen, and... He stared at the blood-spattered hand extended to him, then looked up at the Ponix of New Vegas, who smiled as though he was just a friend helping a friend.  
  
"I've come to take you away from here," Volk said, carefully, as though aware of Arcade's desperate mental state. "I'm taking you to New Vegas."  
  
Arcade still stared, at the man's hand, at his face. What had happened?  
  
Volk bent and lifted Arcade to his feet. "Can you walk? Just to the wagon. Then you can lie down."  
  
"What... what's going on?" Arcade's voice sounded distant and blurred even to himself.  
  
"You've probably got a concussion," Volk said, helping him walk around the bodies. "But you did what I needed you to do, and now I'll take care of you."  
  
"Take...?" Arcade felt slow and stupid. He straightened his glasses - there was a big crack in one of them that hadn't been there before - his hand shook as he felt the blood on his face.  
  
"Yes. Shhh, you're safe now. I'll find you some new glasses, too."  
  
Nothing made sense. Arcade thought the world wasn't right, it swirled around him. He might have fallen. He wasn't certain what else happened; things did happen, he saw them happen, but they slipped through his fingers like water. Was this what dying was like? It was a lot longer and more confusing than he expected.  
  
Someone poured water into his mouth, clear clean water. It was warm, but that didn't matter, it was safe to drink, and Arcade realized how thirsty he was. He drank, he came back to awareness in a wagon. Caesar's other personal slaves and servants were in there with him.  
  
"What?" Arcade asked. "What happened?"  
  
"Caesar is dead," sniffled one of the women. "Lanius is dead."  
  
No. Who was next in line. Arcade tried to think, but everything felt like it flew out of his head. "Who's in charge?"  
  
"That man of the Gunnar Folk," another woman said. "The one they called the Courier. He says he is the new Caesar. Caesar Ogustis. He says he won't kill us."  
  
Small victories, Arcade thought.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
The wagon eventually came to the subdued city of New Vegas. Subdued, in that the robots there watched over everyone; the NCR was gone; the Legion soldiers were uneasy in the City of Lights. But, Volk reassured Arcade, New Vegas definitely had a ruler now. The Ponix who would bring the civilization back out of the ashes. Caesar Augustus, who would make an empire the likes of which had never been seen here before.  
  
Volk was thinner and more scarred than the last time Arcade had seen him. Arcade guessed he himself looked the same. He flinched away from Volk's touch, but Volk persisted, washing the blood and filth away from Arcade in the penthouse bath, using clean towels that looked as new as they had been made two hundred years ago and more. He treated and bandaged the wounds, and dressed Arcade in new, soft, loose clothes, also from before the war, and set him before a table with food and drink waiting.  
  
"You did well," Volk said, sitting across from Arcade.  
  
Arcade felt numb. He might be in shock, he thought, mental shock, since he was still moving. He knew he was blocking the Praetorians' attempts to kill him for failing to save Caesar. He didn't want to think about that anyway. Everything had gone wrong. Everything. The Legion had won. He hoped Daisy had gotten away in time; he doubted the Followers had.  
  
Volk was still talking - he'd always loved to talk - and Arcade realized he should probably pay attention. "- hate the changes I'm going to make, but they have to happen. I've got a whole generation of Legion brainwashing to twist to my direction, and I can't start that until I completely secure my place. I have no doubt some of the officers are already planning how to kill me. You're not eating?"  
  
Arcade stared at the man. He felt like he stood on a razor blade. If he moved, he'd cut himself; if he didn't move, it would still slice him.  
  
"Oh, I see." Volk stood, walked toward Arcade, and, as the doctor held his breath, deactivated the collar and removed it. "There. That should help." He returned to his seat, tossing the collar onto a nearby overstuffed chair.  
  
Arcade's hands flew to his throat. He could hardly believe it. "You - am I - am I still your slave?" he finished, hating the words.  
  
Volk shrugged. "You're educated. You can help me make this place better, if you'd like. There's so much to do, to make a new Rome that lasts another thousand years." Volk suddenly grinned. "As if! I'll be lucky if it lasts five. But to do that, I need people who are strong, smart, capable... and you're one of them." Volk leaned forward on the table. "And you're handsome. Don't think I didn't notice all that flirting when we traveled together."  
  
Arcade began to laugh. He couldn't stop it. Oh, God, what had he fallen into? What had he ever done to deserve this?  
  
Volk's arms were around him. "Shhh. I know. It's been a very bad day. Let me take care of you, and you get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning. Trust me." The blue-green eyes were cheerful. "And yes, you can leave the tower if you want to. I wouldn't recommend it. But you can if you'd like. I won't stop you. But you really shouldn't. Not until you're better." He kissed Arcade's hair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the 52 Weeks challenge "Canon Divergence".

“Sir, if you’re going to get in the Vault, you have to go in _now!”_ The tech was so insistent, and Gunnar understood why, because they were running out of time. It was such a far hope, but Armas had promised –

\- and there he was, tense as any spooked horse, not wanting to go any farther.

“Armas!” Gunnar yelled, and waved him forward. “Come on! This is it, we’re out of time!”

Armas looked like he might bolt, the whites of his eyes visible all around the iris. “No,” he croaked.

“You have to!” Gunnar shouted. “Now! [Get over here!]” he added, in Armas’ language. Gunnar couldn’t leave now, if he went back through that gate he’d never be allowed back in.

Armas took a step forward.

The great Vault blast door began to roll closed, faster than Gunnar would have thought.

The tech screamed as Armas did bolt, but forward, diving through the suddenly narrow gap, rolling as he hit the floor. He showed all his teeth as he leapt to his feet and ran at Gunnar as though to kill him. But he did not; he did nearly knock him down, holding him, and Gunnar could feel Armas’ heart hammering like a wild thing’s in his chest.

Armas, who was so rarely scared of anything, was _terrified_ of the Vault.

Gunnar had thought Armas was exaggerating when he called the Vault a tomb, a place where they’d die. No. Armas meant it, every bit of it.

“Sirs! Get in, quickly!”

“Komm,” Gunnar whispered, and forced Armas to walk forward. “[Close your eyes. Let me guide you. It’s only a cave. A big cave.]”

If he talked about this, then he wouldn’t think about how David hadn’t made it. They’d all known it was a long shot; David had said there might be somewhere else he could try, but he wouldn’t know; and anyway… anyway, it had always been a faint hope. If Gunnar focused on Armas, his heart couldn’t ache for David, he hoped.

His hope went unanswered.

Armas’ breathing grew more ragged, his eyes closed tight.

“[We’re here, we’re here. You need to change clothes. I’ll help you. We’ll put them away for later, when we wake up. And we will wake up. You and I. Together. Safe. Yes?]”

Armas didn’t verbally respond, but Gunnar thought the constant, low-volume talk was helping. He hoped so, given the techs’ chatter and assorted noises, all of it chaos and tension.

“[Now, we will sleep. I’ll make sure you’re safe.]” Gunnar led Armas to the pod, guided by a tech. “[When we wake, the world will be safe again. We’ll leave here. You’ll find food, make shelter, we’ll be alive, and we’ll rebuild.]”

He had to believe all this, for both their sakes.

Armas’ pale eyes opened, fixed on Gunnar, as he lay in the pod before the lid closed. “I,” he said, swallowed hard.

“Sir, you must get into the cryopod.” A tech pulled on Gunnar’s arm, but he resisted, just one moment more.

“[I am here for you,]” Armas said, and another tech closed the pod and sealed it. Gunnar let himself be pulled away as the pod hissed; he hoped it would be quick, that Armas would sleep deeply. He understood Armas’ words. He held them close in his heart, next to his grief for David, as he lay in his own pod, watched the lid close, and felt the sudden, cold falling-away into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What if Armas had made it into the Vault, to wake with Gunnar two hundred years later?


End file.
